


Nightmare House

by lucdarling



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Awkward Conversations, Blood, Canonical Child Abuse, Caretaking, Domestic, Family Dinners, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Good Sibling Billy Hargrove, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Menstruation, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Neil Hargrove's A+ Parenting, POV Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Sick Character, Step-siblings, he's awkward but he tries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24483118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucdarling/pseuds/lucdarling
Summary: Billy and Max, growing up on Cherry Lane (scenes inside the Hargrove-Mayfield household.)
Relationships: Billy Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Billy Hargrove & Susan Hargrove, Neil Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Susan Hargrove & Maxine "Max" Mayfield
Comments: 141
Kudos: 223





	1. Living Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max wishes this wasn’t common, wishes she had a different family.

Max hears shouting as she opens the front door. It’s coming from the kitchen, unusual since Neil normally has this type of discussion with Billy in his own bedroom.

She takes a few steps inside, remembering to shut the door behind her. She doesn’t lock it, just in case she needs to make a quick escape back to her skateboard lying in the front bushes.

Something smashes, it sounds like a bowl or a plate since they drink out of plastic cups that Neil hates. Max can feel her mouth drop open in shock and feels weakly grateful it’s not the familiar slap of skin against skin. She hears the voices more clearly now, Neil’s loud anger and someone softer - her mom. It’s not Billy in the kitchen at all.

She gets two running steps towards the kitchen when she’s pulled into her own room by a rough yank. A hand over her mouth muffles her cry of surprise.

“Don’t say a word, shitbird.” Billy’s eyes stare into hers. He’s not glaring, he doesn’t seem angry but there’s a tension in his frame that Max knows is mirrored in her own.

She shakes her head best she can from behind his hand and he releases her. The first thing Max does is wipe her face with the sleeve of her hoodie.

Another shout and the shattering of more dish ware makes her flinch. She doesn’t give it a second’s thought, turning to the only other person who can comfort her in this instance.

Max throws her arms around Billy’s middle and buries her face in his chest as Neil and her mom continue to fight. Or really, while Neil continues to shout. Her mom's voice is a quiet murmur through her closed bedroom door.

She’s used to her mom's softness. Billy has none of that to offer. The muscles under her cheek are hard and flat. He stinks worse than the boys after gym class. It can hardly be called a good hug but it’s better than nothing. Max can’t imagine having to listen to the sounds if she was alone in her room.

Billy’s arms come up around her shoulders after a hesitation. He strokes her hair awkwardly, too gentle. It’s clear he hasn’t done this in a long time if at all. Billy’s not usually who people would turn to for comfort. Max doesn’t care. She’ll take it because he’s the only one who can understand this moment.

“You’re okay, you’re safe in here.” He whispers against the top of her head as the sounds from the kitchen finally stop. Max doesn’t say anything in response.

Neil’s boots are heavy on the floor outside, stomping past her bedroom. Both of them tense and hold their breath with only a plank of wood and flimsy lock between them and Billy’s father. The front door slams behind him, a final sound.

The house is silent.

Billy lets her go immediately, stepping back. Max drops her arms, wipes at her face. She expects Billy to make a joke about how she cried into his muscle tank but he doesn’t say a word.

“What are you doing in my room?” Max realizes, suspicious. She glances around, trying to find a broken object or a prank he was too slow to hide completely. Her room looks the same, nothing is out of place.

“Nothing,” Billy says, a bored expression plastered on his face. Max can’t tell if he’s lying and doesn’t care to look closer. Sometimes she hates him, even though things have been better lately. “Lucky I was here, before you went running into the kitchen.”

“I guess,” Max agrees awkwardly. She knows Billy doesn’t get all his bruises from fights like the school gossip suggests but she hasn’t had to see it firsthand. It feels different when it’s her mom. Max knows she should go into the kitchen and check on her but leaving her room feels like climbing a mountain. Her legs won’t obey her, even though they aren’t shaking any longer. 

“No guessing,” Billy says, leaning down into her face. “You hear shit like that, just leave the house. Come back in a few hours, things will probably have cooled off then.”

“You didn’t leave today,” Max points out and watches Billy’s jaw clench.

He doesn’t answer and Max scoffs. She didn’t really expect one. She tries moving her legs again and nearly stumbles.

“Jesus,” Billy swears, catching her upper arm with one hand. “Get out of here.”

“Get out of my own room?” Max raises her eyebrows and reaches past him to open the door. She points to the living room. “You get out first.”

Billy ruffles her hair a touch too harsh and she winces. He laughs and heads back over to his weights. They’re still in the living room. Neil told Billy that he has until the weekend to move them to his own room or he’ll put them on the curb. Max thinks she’d like to see that, Neil grunting and sweating trying to lift the heaviest ones. She knows it won’t happen because Billy doesn’t stand up to his father except in little rebellions.

She remembers, all of a sudden and uncertain how she forgot, her mom in the kitchen. She nearly trips on the carpet in her haste to get there.

Her mom isn’t in the kitchen. Max blinks and tries to gather her thoughts. There’s no broken dishes on the counter or the floor. She looks in the trash can and there’s a new garbage bag. A few drops of blood ring the sink. Max feels like she’s been dunked in ice water.

The back door opens and her mom steps through. Max runs at her and stops short, afraid to touch.

“What’s this?” Her mom asks with a light laugh. Her voice is maybe a little quieter than usual but it’s hard for Max to be sure. Her mom has always been soft. Her red hair shines in the sun streaming through the window.

It’s late afternoon and Max realizes she’s only left the Wheeler’s basement less than an hour ago. It feels like so much later, like she was standing in her bedroom with Billy and listening to Neil’s rage for hours even though it could only have been a few minutes.

“I just missed you today,” Max says and hugs her. Her mom laughs and combs her bandaged fingers through Max’s own red hair. They catch on some of the strands. Max doesn’t make a sound even when tugging them loose sends little pinpricks of pain to her scalp. 

The hug is perfect, the familiar smell of perfume and dish soap surrounding her. Max squeezes harder, locking her arms around her mom waist so tight she’s sure her own hands are turning white. She wonders if she’s hurting her mom, if there are bruises hiding under her dress. Her mom doesn’t make any move to lessen Max’s grip so she thinks maybe not. She hopes not.

Max can feel her mom's ribs under her hands and that’s a thought she’s never had before. Her mom is a fragile woman. Max pulls back and her mom lets her go without a word of protest.

“Are you okay?” Max asks. Billy turns on the tv in the living room, blaring the MTV countdown. The sound makes her and her mom both jump. They laugh a little, like _oh isn’t it silly_.

Her mom smiles at her. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Do you want to help me in the kitchen? You can do your homework after dinner.”

Max nods her head. Spending time with her mom, having her in Max’s sight, sounds like a good idea. They don’t talk about what occurred earlier, or why there are only six dinner plates instead of eight like there were yesterday.

Max and her mom bake a cake. It’s from scratch, the way Max’s grandma in California taught her on a warm spring day only a few years ago. It feels like another lifetime to Max even though she’s only fourteen. 

Neil returns in time for dinner, flowers from the supermarket clutched in one hand. She and Billy trade glances as her mom exclaims her delight a little too loudly, filling up the silence that came in with Neil.

The cake tastes like ash in Max’s mouth. She's not sure what they’re celebrating and can’t bring herself to ask.


	2. Out, Damn Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family isn't just in blood, though sometimes it can bring you together.

Billy’s eyes open and he realizes it’s still dark. It isn’t his alarm that had woken him up. He sits up in bed, slowing his breathing and listening for anything out of the ordinary. More specifically, the sound of his father's footsteps.

There is nothing.

Then he hears it again, a quiet muffled sound. Billy is too familiar with how to cry silently, sucking in air slowly as lungs tremble and the body shakes. This person wasn't, more than likely is behind a closed door.

Billy gets out of bed cautiously and hopes it wasn't Susan.

There’s a light under the bathroom door and he cracks it open.

Max stands at the sink, face red and wet as she scrubs at what looked like a large pile of fabric. Billy's brain isn't fully awake and the fabric resolves into a sheet with a few heavy blinks.

She doesn’t notice him stepping inside or the door shutting, too busy letting out little hisses of pain when she kept her fingers under the steaming water for too long on.

Billy peers closer from where he stands against the wall at the scene. His stomach drops when he realizes the water is running red.

Max is scrubbing out blood from her sheets.

"Are you-" he doesn’t finish the sentence, too busy darting forward to clap a hand over Max's mouth when she opens it in surprise. "Shhh!" He hushes her soundly, glaring for good measure. "Don't wake him up." Max nods and he moves his hand away.

"What happened?" He reaches past her to turn the cold water on.

"I woke up and there was..." Max trails off, face darkening with embarrassment. "So I gotta get it out."

"Okay, MacBeth." Billy cracks the joke, knowing it’ll go over her head since they had just finished the play in his own English class. "You want cold water for blood stains, hot water makes ‘em set."

Max doesn’t ask how he knew this, meeting his eyes in the mirror and watching as he put his hair in a sloppy bun.

"You need to get clean? Those pajama pants?" Billy asks quietly. He’s taken over scrubbing at the sheets with a hip check to move her out of the way. His hands rub the fabric together, squirting more hand soap on the stain. It’s all they have in the little bathroom and the laundry is off the kitchen, far too close to the master bedroom.

Max crosses her arms over her chest. "They're ruined."

"Maybe, but you'll feel better if you get clean now." He jerks a thumb towards the shower. "Hand them through the curtain."

Billy thinks briefly about waking Susan to handle this, then dismisses the idea. There is a slight chance he could wake his father and that is not happening.

Max drops her pajama pants to the bathroom rug and turns the water on not a minute later. Billy picks them up and lets out a sigh. Maybe he should have had her clean them in the shower? This was weird, especially for two people related through marriage. He shakes the thoughts from his head - too late to go back on the plan he had come up with.

Billy realizes she doesn’t have anything to wear when she gets out. He drops the bloody pants in the sink, turning the water off so it didn't overflow. He practically tiptoes down the hall to his own room and stands in front of his closet, trying to decide if a pair of his basketball shorts would be enough. They have drawstrings so Max could wear them, he figures. No way is he going in her room in the middle of the night, let alone searching her drawers for clean pajamas. That would just be asking for trouble.

When he gets back to the bathroom, Susan is standing at the sink. Billy stops in the doorway, heart pounding.

"Your father is still asleep," Susan reassures him. Her voice is barely louder than the running water.

"I brought uh, shorts," Billy stumbles over his words, very aware he was only in a pair of boxers himself. "I didn't, I was helping-"

"I know," Susan says softly. There’s a smile on her face. "I can handle it from here, thank you Billy." She reaches out to touch him. He flinches on instinct and Susan’s smile turns to something sad.

Neither of them say anything and Billy backs away, shorts still gripped in his hand. He takes down his hair, lays in bed with the sheet pulled up and tries to fall asleep again.

His alarm wakes him up some hours later, screaming in his ear. Billy whacks at it with a fist and rubs his eyes. He doesn’t feel any more tired than usual for his late-night interactions, thankfully.

He pulls on a shirt and hops into a relatively clean pair of jeans. His hair can wait until after breakfast.

There are three plates at the table and his stomach twists. Was he not allowed to eat today? His father is hidden behind a newspaper, doesn’t bother looking up when the kitchen tile creaked under Billy's foot.

"Billy! There you are!" Susan's voice is chipper, like always. "Come eat breakfast." She pats the back of the chair and slides a plate with golden waffles in front of him.

"Uh," Billy says intelligently. These are fresh waffles, not frozen ones. These are things that took time to make. They also happen to be his favorite breakfast food.

The newspaper snaps down and his father's glare bores into the side of his face like lasers.

"Thank you, Susan. These look delicious." Billy gets his act together and picks up his fork. Susan takes a seat across the table, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Billy has one too.

Susan winks at him, the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile when his eyes dart from his own mug to her face. Coffee for Billy was only for weekends or the rare mornings when Neil was on an overnight trip. Not for school days.

He drinks it quickly and Susan replaces it with the usual cup of orange juice. Billy isn't sure if his father had noticed but if he wasn't saying anything, it was fine by him. The caffeine wakes him up, or maybe it was just the temperature of the liquid as it burns down his throat.

"I have a note for Max's school," Susan cut into his thoughts. "Would you mind giving it to the receptionist at her school?"

"Sure," Billy mumbles with a mouthful of syrup-drenched goodness.

The newspaper comes down again. "What was that?" His father's voice is sharp.

"Yes ma'am," Billy amends, swallowing quickly and hoping he doesn’t choke.

“Thank you, Billy. It’s taped to the front door so you can’t miss it.” She smiles again and Billy tries to smile back. She’s gone to a lot of effort and a smile, though it sits wrong on his face, is the least he can do.

He finishes his waffles and heads into the bathroom for hair care. His curls don’t take too long and he snoops in the bathroom. There’s no sign of what happened at whatever time this morning.

Max’s bedroom door is shut and Billy doesn’t dare disturb her.

He shoulders his book bag even though it almost never comes to class with him and tears the note off the front door. It takes him less than a minute to skim through Susan’s neat cursive: Max is sick and her brother will be by in the afternoon to pick up her make-up work. He sneers at the relationship written down in black ink. They’re step-siblings.

Billy supposes the label doesn’t really matter, however. There’s only one ruler in this house, and it’s none of them. Family matters at the end of the day, they’re the only people you can count on. Billy is old enough to know that family doesn’t mean blood.


	3. Dinner for Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Neil sit down for dinner, the only two in the house for the evening.

It’s only the two of them in the house for the evening. Her mom is working overnight for a client who has a multi-million dollar closing in Indianapolis. Billy is at a basketball tournament near some place called Mishawaka that Max thinks still sounds made up. He’ll be back before midnight but not in time for dinner.

Max knows that Neil has never been to one of his son’s games and thinks it weird. Her dad was the one who showed her the skate parks back home. She wonders if Neil taught Billy to play basketball, but hasn’t bothered to ask.

“Are you old enough to help with dinner?” Neil asks.

“I’m fourteen,” Max answers. She does her best to sound polite, even though she rolls her eyes behind his back.

Neil hands her a head of lettuce and a bell pepper. “Make something out of this,” he says with a grin that doesn’t send Max skittering to the other side of the room. It’s something more like when he was first dating her mom, and they both thought Neil Hargrove was a gentleman. “I think there’s carrots somewhere too.”

“I can find them,” Max promises. “Does this count as my second green vegetable of the day? I already had peas for lunch.” She ate five very mushy peas that still tasted like the can they came from, it totally counted. Her mom has been very insistent about Max eating nutritiously lately and she’s trying to follow it, but it’s not her fault candy looks better.

“How many peas did you eat?”

“An entire spoonful. They tasted like metal.” Max shrugs and Neil ruffles her hair gently.

“Salad will do. Alfredo chicken okay?”

“It’s fine.” Max also ate something approximating chicken for lunch, it’s whatever to have it again for dinner.

“Great,” Neil says and pulls a pan from the cabinet.

He dumps the chicken into the pan, pink and raw and slimy. They hiss when they hit the pan. Max turns away and concentrates on chopping up the bell pepper, separating the seeds from the part they can actually eat. Some of the pieces even look the same size, which Max considers a minor miracle considering how dull the knife is. It’s easier to chop the carrots though it takes more force and her fingers ache from being clenched around the handle.

The chicken sizzles in the pan while Max dumps the lettuce and bell pepper into the largest bowl they own. She starts the water for pasta boiling, too. Neil seems focused on dumping the jar of white sauce into the pan, doesn’t look up when Max washes off the cutting board and carefully rinses the knife she’d used.

“Salad and chicken alfredo,” Max starts at the sound of Neil’s voice. “I think your mom would be pretty proud of us, huh?”

“It’s a meal,” she answers noncommittally. “She’ll be happy we’re not eating takeout.”

“You’re right,” Neil laughs and it sounds genuine. Max wonders if he’s ever laughed like that at anything Billy said when he was her age. For some reason, she doubts it. “The chicken and pasta is nearly done, would you set the table?”

Max does as she’s told, even goes so far as to fold the napkin and place the fork on top like they’re at a restaurant. She puts the salad bowl on the table next to the ranch dressing and pours herself a glass of milk.

“Do you want-” Max holds up the jug in question.

“No, I’m fine sweetheart.” Neil says. “Milk is for young girls, makes your bones nice and strong.”

Max nods and puts the milk back in the fridge. She carefully doesn’t think about the sound bones make when they break as she carries her glass back to the table and takes a sip. Strong bones are a good thing to have in this household.

Neil sets the chicken and pasta on the table and doubles back to the fridge for his own drink. Max clenches her fist under the table when he reaches for the beer, lets out a slow breath of relief when he runs a glass under the tap instead.

“Well, dig in.” Neil uses his fork to choose a piece of chicken and set it on his plate. He uses the same fork and a spoon to capture a load of pasta, but doesn't seem to notice when the white sauce drips onto the table. “Hope it’s cooked.”

“I won’t tell Mom,” Max smiles, innocent and guileless. The chicken isn’t dry but it’s bland. The alfredo sauce covers everything. It’s no worse than any other meal in the school cafeteria, Max thinks but doesn’t say that out loud.

It’s the silence between the two of them that makes the meal something to endure.

“Have a lot of homework?” Neil breaks the silence and Max jumps in her seat. He smiles at her as he chews, swallows.

Max takes another sip of milk to wet her suddenly dry throat.

“Reading two chapters of our book for class discussion, and a set of math problems.” She probably has some history reading, but it’s so dry she’ll make Lucas give her a rundown before they walk into class like usual. “I got my science homework done before the AV club met yesterday.”

“What are you reading?” 

“Homecoming, by Cynthia Voight.”

“What’s it about? The books they had us read in class were always dull things.” Neil laughs and Max thinks about the last chapter she finished a few days ago.

“A girl named Dicey, and her brothers and sister. They’re walking to reach their Aunt Cilla in Bridgeport after their Momma left them at a mall.” Too late Max remembers that Neil’s first wife also left even if no one’s told her exactly how.

“A lot of walking, it sounds like.” Neil comments and Max nods her head. “Some women,” he sighs and looks not at Max but over her head, like she isn’t sitting at the kitchen table next to him. “Some women just aren’t right to be parents. Does more harm to the kid.”

Max nods again and doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal. She thinks her mom is a pretty good one, who would never leave her. Her mom loves her. Max just doesn’t understand why she also loves Neil, who shouts and stomps.

“Alright,” Neil says, pushing back his chair from the table. “I’m going to watch the game replay, you can do your homework here and I’ll check it when you’re done. Education’s important, especially for girls who are gonna make something of themselves like you.”

Max’s mouth falls open despite her best efforts as he starts putting foil over the remaining chicken. She’s 14, not in elementary school. She’s going to high school next year! His tone is patronizing and it makes something heat up inside her, white hot and burning but Max doesn’t have the words to explain why she’s suddenly furious.

“Okay.” is what she says instead of all those thoughts. She doesn’t even grit her teeth. Max goes to her room and gets her bookbag, thumps it down next to her chair at the kitchen table. Neil smiles again and leaves the dishes in the sink for someone. Probably Max’s mom.

Finding angles and the length of a third side on a triangle, thrilling. The problem set doesn’t take her long at all because she already studied this math chapter back in California.

The two chapters take longer. She writes a few notes about Dicey meeting Windy and Stew, how the situation for the siblings might be looking up, and how jealous Max is that they got to go to the beach before going to Bridgeport. Max’s discussion entry turns into how much she misses California and staring out at the ocean, watching the waves crash into the shore and stretch out farther than the eye can see. She knows her teacher will lap it up, she always loves when Max shows any sign of emotion because Max sits in the back row with her book propped in front of her face for almost every class.

Max doesn’t examine too closely how Dicey’s feelings of homesickness mirror her own and leaves the kitchen to brush her teeth for bed.

She stands next to Neil’s chair, math problems clutched in one hand. “I have my homework here, sir.” 

Max remembers what Billy told her one day in California, shortly before they moved: call Neil sir if you’re not going to say dad, be polite and don’t ever talk back. She knew what happened when you talked back to Neil, had watched him pop his own son in the mouth that very night. Her mom had been in another room and Max watching from around the corner. Billy had spit blood onto the floor and walked around with a fat lip for the better part of a week.

Neil has never been anything but kind to Max. She used to love the smiles, the extra money slipped into her pocket and the hugs when she was younger. Now though, with Billy angry all the time and watching the Party’s families interact with each other with affection so thick she thinks she’ll choke, Max feels like she’s waiting for something.

She knows her mom won’t protect her when that day finally comes.

“Just leave it on the table, I’ll look at it before I go to bed. You brush your teeth and wash behind your ears?” Neil finally looks away from the game on tv and meets her eyes.

“No one does that on their own anymore, it’s why we have showers.” Max snarks before she can stop the words. She holds her breath but Neil only laughs at her.

“You’re right, listen to me talking like my own grandfather! Don’t tell your mom, she’ll be making fun of me into next year if she knew.” He raises an eyebrow, like Max is in on a joke except she’s never seen her mom tease Neil at all.

“Won’t say a word,” Max says with a forced grin. “I’m gonna listen to some music and then go to sleep. Good night, dad.”

Neil is already tuned back into the game. “Night, honey.” Max is grateful he didn’t ask for a kiss like he sometimes does, his stubbled cheek always scratches unpleasantly at her lips.

Max goes to her room and shuts the door. The walkie-talkie crackles quietly when she turns it on and extends the antenna. Lucas is already waiting for her on their channel.

“How was dinner? Over.”

“Not terrible.” Max pauses. “Lame, actually. Over.”

“No board games or food fights? Over.” She can hear Lucas’s smile in his voice, can picture it perfectly as she lays back on her bed to stare at the ceiling.

“Just boring chicken alfredo and my homework. I need you to give me a rundown of the history reading tomorrow morning. I didn’t have time for it. Over.”

“Of course I will. Meet at the bike rack when you get to school tomorrow? Over.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees as the front door opens. Billy’s home from his game. She speaks quickly, holding the walkie-talkie close so she can whisper but Lucas will still hear her. “I gotta go, goodnight. Over and out.”

She closes the antenna and clicks off the walkie-talkie before Lucas can wish her the same. He’s used to that, Max knows.

“Did you win?” Neil’s voice isn’t lowered in deference to Max’s closed bedroom door. It’s a good thing she’s not actually asleep yet.

Billy’s voice is too low for her to overhear, even as she strains to listen. There’s nothing after that. Max lets out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as his boots thump past her doorway into his room.

She falls asleep to the sound of Billy’s music on the other side of their shared wall. Just another night in the Hargrove household.


	4. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Max is sick,” Susan tells him and Billy holds in a sigh. “It’s nothing serious, just one of those twenty-four hour bugs but she can’t be left alone.”
> 
> Billy wants to spit in her face that he nursed himself through the flu when he was only a year older than Max. Instead, he ends up watching the brat and doing homework at the kitchen table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been nearly a month since I've updated this, and that's likely how it's going to be going forward. I recommend you subscribe to the story if you want to know when I've posted a new chapter, and please leave a comment to let me know how you feel about this one!

Billy is getting ready for school, which mostly means Aquanet and choosing a shirt for the damnable weather that Indiana has. He misses California every day, it was never lower than the 50s there and even then only at night.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door and he puts down the bottle of cologne. His father wouldn’t knock, and is on an overnight trip besides. Max would barge in, any sense of privacy lost on a thirteen year old. That only leaves Susan. Something angry curls in Billy’s gut at the fact that she’s not his mother, always finds an excuse to leave the room when his father starts up, but wants to respect his privacy by knocking on the door.

“Come in, I’m dressed,” Billy calls out. He knows what would happen if he left her waiting in the hallway, or bitched at her. Little siblings have big ears, he’s learned over the years. It’s just another reason for Billy to spend most of the time out of the house and Indiana sucks because his only options are driving around if he’s got the money for gas that week or the quarry. The quarry where all the other cows hang out, the same ones who attend the high school where Billy is already forced to spend most of his waking hours. It’s easier to stay on his bed or just take a hike down the street with a pack of smokes if he really needs to get out of the house.

“Billy, what are you doing today?” Susan asks softly. She steps just over the threshold, like coming in any further might taint her. She’s dressed for work, necklace lying just so with the collar of her dress.

“Going to school,” Billy rolls his eyes.

“Yes,” Susan coughs. “I know. I meant, did you have any tests today? Any reason you need to be at school?”

“You gonna write me a sick note, Sue?” Billy scoffs. Left unsaid is that she’s never written one before, not even when he had cracked ribs.

“I could, if you-” Susan cuts herself off and they both know why. Hargrove men aren’t pussies.

“What do you need? I’m gonna be late for class if I don’t leave in the next seven minutes.” Billy makes a show of checking his watch though he doesn’t honestly care if he’s late.

“Max is sick,” Susan tells him and Billy holds in a sigh. He keeps his hands loose at his sides, then shifts to stuff them in his jacket pockets just for something to do while Susan gets the words out. 

“It’s nothing serious, just one of those twenty-four hour bugs but she can’t be left alone. However, I need to be at work today for an important client. I’ll explain it to the school, you won’t be in any trouble and there’s money on the kitchen counter for dinner if you need it.”

Billy wants to spit in her face that he nursed himself through the flu when he was only a year older than Max. He wiped his own nose and drowned himself in so much Gatorade that his back teeth were floating by the end of the week.

But this is Max, his father’s golden girl and the apple of Susan’s eye no matter that the brat would rather be on her skateboard than discussing fashion. Susan is still dumb enough to hold out hope.

“So you just want me to make sure she doesn’t choke on her vomit?” Billy checks, raising an eyebrow. “Got plenty of experience with that at parties.”

“I thought you might,” Susan says even as she winces at the crudeness. “That would be very kind of you, thank you Billy. I’ll be back sometime tonight, and your father comes home tomorrow morning.” Her hands flutter like she’s considering pulling him into a hug or at the very least touching him in some way. Billy takes a step back and Susan leaves his room without saying anything further.

He looks at his reflection in the mirror, thinks about punching it because now he’s stuck at home all day. Instead, he strips off his shirt for a faded LA Clippers t-shirt that isn’t even red any more. Billy ambles into the kitchen, watches as Susan taillights drive off to the bank.

He thinks about making more coffee, pours himself a second glass of orange juice instead. Max gets a glass of water, because Billy knows if she’s been puking the acid will just hurt. He can’t deal with her tears today, or any day.

Her room is dark when he cracks the door open and pokes his head in. She rolls over in bed, hair a mess. Billy snorts at the sight.

“Get out,” Max slurs, no less a pain in his ass for being sick.

“Are you dying?” Billy asks bluntly. The sliver of light highlights her flushed skin and the pillowmark crease in her face. “Susan called me out of school to look after you.”

“Yeah right,” Max mumbles and turns over so she’s not facing the light. Billy enters the room. “Turn the light off.”

“Oh, this light?” Billy asks with a wicked grin Max would recognize if she were looking at him. He reaches out and flips the overhead light on.

Max groans, pulling her pillow over her face. “Get out, you jerk! That isn’t helping. Mom told me to stay in bed and rest. You are the least restful thing I can possibly think of.”

Billy cackles and takes a seat on the edge of her bed. It’s easy enough to catch Max’s ankle through the covers before it can connect with his body.

“When was the last time you drank anything?”

Max shrugs, sulking when she realizes Billy isn’t leaving and is taking this seriously. If it’s less because he cares and more due to the invisible presence of his father, that’s for him and him alone to know.

“Drink some water. Stay hydrated, shitbird. You’re gonna stay in bed all day, probably sweat it all out with that fever you’re running.” Max wrinkles her face but takes the glass he shoves at her. She drinks half under his stern gaze and sets it on the bedside table.

Billy waits a minute to see if it comes up again. His eyes bounce around the room and the posters Max has tacked up, looks at the mess of clothes lying on the closet’s door track. They have that in common at least, an inability to pick up after themselves.

“I’m fine, you can leave,” Max orders him. It would be more demanding if she didn’t immediately slide down in her bed like staying upright had been impossible past that minute.

Billy rolls his eyes, shuts the light off and leaves the room. He keeps the door open even though Max shouts at his back. It’s not much of a cry and Billy ignores it easily. She wants to tough it out herself, he’ll let her. She’s old enough to take care of herself anyways. He heads out to the living room and stretches out on the couch. It’s closer to Max’s room than his own bed, just in case.

After dozing through three episodes of _The Young and the Restless_ , Billy feels like his brain is going to rot out of his skull. He grabs his homework, manages a handful of problems and drinks half a can of soda before he hears Max moving.

“How you feeling?” Billy pokes his head in again. Max is still red faced and grumbles at him before she claps a hand over her mouth, eyes wide in panic.

Billy darts into the room, eyes rolling for any trash can Max might have. There’s a mixing bowl on the other side of the bed, and he mentally thanks Susan for the foresight.

Max leans over the bowl as soon as Billy shoves it in her hands and groans, retches until it’s only watery bile. Billy stands there, useless. His hand hovers over her back but doesn’t touch the knobs of her spine.

He takes the bowl back, making a face at the smell. “Get up, go brush your teeth. Get rid of the taste, rinse with a lot of water first.”

Max stares at him, slumped against the headboard again. She looks sapped of her usual energy and the bounciness that Billy loathes.

“C’mon,” Billy sets the bowl on the desk she only uses to collect trinkets and dirty clothes, resolving to come back for it. He gets an arm under Max’s armpit as his other hand flips back the covers. “Up you get, brush your teeth. You’ll feel better.”

“Ugh,” Max groans. Her slim hand holds her stomach and Billy eyes its placement warily.

“You don’t have anything left to upchuck,” Billy tells her. “Hold it in.”

Max glares at him weakly and stomps off to the bathroom. Even sick, she manages to sound like an elephant. Billy holds the bowl full of disgust at arm’s length and definitely doesn’t run to dump it in the bushes outside. A quick rinse in the kitchen sink and it’s good as new for Max’s use again.

He finds her over the toilet and winces. “Find something else in your stomach you couldn’t wait to see again, Maxine?”

She throws him the finger but doesn’t look up from resting her face against the arm thrown over the toilet. Billy sympathizes.

“You gonna stay there all day?”

“Maybe.”

“Drink some water, slowly. Shout if you need something.” Billy tells her and sets the mixing bowl on her nightstand. He runs a hand over her sheets and finds them damp with sweat. Not a surprise and not what he’d want to crawl back into if he were sick.

It’s a good thing his father isn’t here to see his decision.

Billy checks under Max’s bed for the set of extra sheets, then the closet shelf. His are kept up there, it reasons that hers would be the same. Instead of sheets he’s greeted with the big ugly pink suitcase that moved her into the Hargrove household and then across the country, and some books for young children.

“Where’s your mom keep the extra sheets?”

“Closet in her room, or the laundry room.” Max’s confusion is clear in her voice. If there’s no question asked, Billy doesn’t have to give an answer.

He checks the laundry, the small room off the kitchen making him feel vaguely claustrophobic just by standing in it. No sign of sheets for a girl’s bedroom, only detergent and bleach and other cleaning supplies.

There’s only one place left to check: the master bedroom.

It’s not much bigger than Billy’s room he thinks, standing on the threshold. He’s lived in this house for some very long weeks and has never stepped foot in here after the day from hell unpacking everything.

Billy holds his breath as he steps into the room. He reminds himself it’s just a bedroom and heads over to the closet. He can’t imagine trying to search the dresser drawers, hears his father’s voice circling in his head already at just the thought.

He gets lucky, spies the extra sheets sitting on top of one another on the closet shelf. Billy tells himself his sheets are in his closet for his own ease. He grabs them quickly and shuts the bedroom door behind him. He doesn’t think about how something as small as sheets are just one more reason he’s treated differently in the family Neil’s built for himself while Billy stays the afterthought.

Billy remakes the bed and chivvies Max into the clean sheets. She gives a little sigh, half awake and already drifting off. He doesn’t blame her, a lot of energy is burned puking up your guts and being sick doesn’t give you much to start with.

“Bowl’s clean on the nightstand if you need to puke. But I’ll probably hear you from the kitchen.” Billy puts his hand on her forehead briefly. “Your fever is probably gonna break soon.”

“That’s great,” Max slurs and shuts her eyes.

Billy goes back to his homework and the soda, flips on the radio in the kitchen to fill the silence. It’s still a better afternoon than being stuck at school, surrounded by idiots.

He ends up dozing on the couch again when he gets bored of staring at homework, waking when the floor creaks under a foot. Billy sits straight up, looking around. Max’s bed is empty, so is the bathroom.

She’s in the kitchen, clearly feeling better even though she’s still in pajamas. Max’s tongue sticks out in concentration as she spreads peanut butter on a piece of bread, jelly already waiting on the other.

Billy blinks and takes a closer look. Okay, she’s not fully back to the living considering she’s using one of the steak knives.

“You trying to have an accident?” Billy breaks her concentration and the knife slips.

Max hisses and Billy rolls his eyes. 

“Run it under water, dumbass. Clean the cut, it’s not that bad.” He stands over her, looming to make sure she does as told with her fumbling fingers and sleepy eyes. “Wanted a sandwich that bad, huh? Thought that was why your mom called me out of school today, though I’m not a nursemaid.”

“You taking care of anyone, that’s funny,” Max giggles as Billy huffs through his nose.

“Uh-huh, I’ve done a shit job of it clearly.”

“I got hurt!” Max holds up her injured hand as proof. 

Billy snatches it out of the air, holds on too tight until she squeals. “No, you’re injured because you’re still sick and an idiot to boot. What kind of dumbass makes a simple sandwich with a sharp knife? You, that’s who.” His voice gets louder as he goes on, not caring that Max is wincing at his volume. He still hasn’t dropped her wrist.

“Dumbass?” Max shrieks and her voice is a hoarse cry. “Like you have room to talk, mister life of the party who comes crashing into everything at 2AM and bleeds all over the bathroom tile. Not that my mom got a thank you for cleaning that up, of course not.”

“Oh, you want to talk about thanks?” Billy chuckles, the sound deep and he can see it makes Max pause. “Yeah, let’s talk about the thanks I get for driving you all around to your shithead friend’s houses, to school, to anywhere you want to go. I get a nail bat almost in my balls just for looking out for you. Some thanks.” He scoffs and throws her arm down.

“There were things going on that I can’t talk about,” Max hisses. Her face is flushed again, this time in anger.

“Fine, keep lying.” Billy shouts. He throws his hands up. “All I know is that you and a bunch of boys, one of which is my age, were in a house all alone and it was trashed. Nothing good happened that night, Max. Don’t lie to me about that!”

She sniffs and wipes at her runny nose. Billy remembers she’s still sick and takes a deep breath, then another.

“Still hungry after all that?” he asks, a little quieter.

Max nods but doesn’t make any move to go back to her sandwich. There’s probably blood in it now. Billy stalks over to the fridge, finds the applesauce. It’s bland and won’t hurt her throat too much if it ends up coming back up later. Better than the stickiness of a pb&j. He upends the jar over a clean bowl snatched from the dishwasher and sticks a spoon once he figures it’s enough for Max to eat.

“Here, maybe take some medicine for the headache. Drink more water.” Billy thrusts the bowl at her. Max takes it with a nod.

“Thanks, Billy,” she mumbles and goes back into her room. He drags a hand down his face. 

That fight has been brewing ever since that night over a month ago. It still sticks in his throat, the fact that he’s a goddamn glorified babysitter. He hates Max sometimes, most days really, but what he said one of their first days in Hawkins is still true: they’re family, like it or not.

Billy throws out the pb&j Max had been trying to make, makes one for himself and cracks a beer. He’s earned it, the way the afternoon has gone. Max is silent in her room and he doesn’t go check on her as his pencil scratches out the answers to math and chemistry assignments.

He’s packing up his finished homework when Susan walks in the door later that evening, his history essay having taken longer than expected. She sets her purse down, gives him a tired smile and goes to check on Max. There’s quiet voices and Susan emerges, looking happy.

“Thank you so much, Billy. You got your homework done?”

“Yes ma’am.” He spins the menu for the pizza place around on the counter with one finger. “You look tired, why don’t I call in an order? Cheese okay?”

“Cheese is fine,” Susan agrees, heading to the master bedroom. She doesn’t say anything about the closed door when it had been left open this morning. “Give me a minute to change out of my work clothes and I can pick it up.”

“I’ll go,” Billy offers. His car keys are already in his hand, jangling as he slaps them against his palm. “You stay here with Max, I’m sure she wants to see you if she’s not back to sleep.”

Susan gives a quiet laugh. “She’d sleep through the night if I let her. Best not, she’ll be going to school tomorrow.”

“Cold, Sue, real cold.” Billy winks to show he’s joking and Susan waves him out the door. It’s unexpectedly nice, this playfulness between them. He knows it’ll disappear by the morning and the return of his father.


	5. The Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max and Susan in a quiet house, having a girl's day.
> 
> Or: Max get The Talk from her mom and wishes she could be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Squeaking in just before the month's end, since I decided to put off the first Max POV I wrote to use at a later date. I may not update this in October, since I have some other projects that demand attention, but I will be back to this!
> 
> Time for some awkward Max & Susan bonding, let me know what you think in the comments.

“Where is everyone?” Max stumbles out of her bedroom, sleep still clinging to her brain. The house is quiet, no sign of either Hargrove. Her mom sits on the couch, a magazine open next to her.

“I’m not sure where Billy is,” her mom answers. “Said he’d be back by dinner.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Max mutters under her breath. Most weekends, Billy left sometime on Friday and stayed out until Sunday dinner, or slunk in as she was getting ready for bed. Neil didn’t seem to care where his son went and never asked questions. They both preferred it that way.

“Neil is out today, some work colleagues took a trip up to a lake for yellow perch.” Susan finishes, not hearing Max or ignoring her. She’s never certain how well her mom’s ears work - before Indiana, before Neil had come into their lives, Max’s mom had ears like a bat. Nowadays, it’s more like her mom has gone deaf. Max hates it, but never draws attention to it. It’s safer not to.

“Yellow what?”

“A type of fish, apparently it’s popular around here.” Her mom says absent-mindedly, flipping a glossy page in the magazine. “Get yourself some breakfast and then come sit by me on the couch. I thought we could have a bit of a girls’ day, though we have some things to talk about.”

Max pours herself a bowl of cereal and eats it slowly as her thoughts swirl. Her grades at school are fine, as far as she’s aware. She got a B-plus on her last science test. She can handle sitting still for an hour while her mom tries to play nice and paints her nails. Max knows the color will chip off by next weekend but it will make her mom happy. They haven’t had a girl’s day in a long time, before Indiana even existed to Max besides a name on a map.

Her mom is still sitting on the couch when Max walks back into the living room. She takes a seat on the opposite end. The silence in the house is strange and stifling. Small bottles of nail polish sit on the coffee table lined up like little soldiers.

“Can I put on some music? It’s too quiet.” Max asks, not even waiting for an answer before running back into her room for her boombox and Madonna tapes. She knows her mom sometimes sings to Material Girl and always laughs when Max does.

Max hums along to the song as her mother sings softly with Madonna, being careful not to move her hand as Max swipes paint across her nails. The tracks switch as Max finishes with her mom’s left hand. She blows gently on the drying color as her mom speaks.

“You seem happy.”

“I guess,” Max says, uncertain if there’s a correct response or what her mom’s even wanting to ask. Her mom always has to make small talk for a few minutes before actually getting around to whatever is on her mind. Max just cuts right to the chase in a conversation.

“Things are better for you? Your friends are nice? I know it was difficult switching schools halfway through the semester.”

“My friends are the best, they’re nice.” Max says without thinking as she swipes over her mom’s thumb with the pale pink color she had picked out. Neil doesn’t mind painted nails on her mom, but he wants them to be as close to natural as possible.

“Maybe one of them is nicer than the others?” Her mom says with a smile like she has a secret.

Max feels her face heat up as she thinks about Lucas, how he’ll hold her hand at lunch if she doesn’t push him away and wants to carry her book bag even though Max never lets him.

“Yeah, maybe.” Max smiles. “His name is Lucas.”

Her mom laughs, a warm sound that makes Max realize she doesn’t remember the last time she heard it. No doubt a different day when Neil wasn’t in sight or even in the same county.

“Lucas, huh? Did he take you to the Snow Ball dance?”

“I went by myself,” Max protests as she starts painting her mom’s other hand carefully. “But we might have danced.”

“Oh, you danced together.” Her mother repeats. She looks younger, more carefree as she teases Max.

“So we’ve done our nails and we’ve talked about boys,” Max says loudly, cutting off whatever her mom might say next. She likes Lucas most days, but doesn’t want to sit captive in front of her mom and talk about how much she likes him. That sounds mortifying.

“We can move on to the real reason for this, not that it wasn’t fun to do our nails and catch up, Max.” Her mom reaches out to touch Max’s face but draws her hand back, remembering her wet nails. 

“We received a call from the school last week,” her mom begins as their nails dry. Max fidgets with the edge of the magazine in between them, using the pads of her thumb and index finger to dog-ear the page only to smooth it out then fold it over again.

“I didn’t do anything!” Max cries out.

“I know, sweetheart. The school wanted permission to talk to you about some things, some changes that might be happening or will be happening soon.” Her mom reaches to the floor and sets a grocery bag on the coffee table.

Max knows her face turns bright red when she realizes what’s going on.

“We already had this talk, Mom! Back in California!”

“We had the first part of this talk, Maxine.” Her mom corrects. “Your body is growing and you know what to do with that time of the month. There might be some girls at your school where that information is brand new. Not everyone’s mom warns them.”

Max shrugs and picks at the edge of the couch cushion. It only smears the color on her nail a little but she pulls her hand away guiltily anyhow. “That doesn’t sound good.” Max’s blush calms down. “So now we both know that I know what a girl’s body does in puberty, great talk.” She launches herself off the couch.

“Sit down, Maxine.” Her mom commands and Max stops short, legs still bent to raise herself to standing. Her mom is soft-spoken, likes to fade into the background and play the supporting role to her boyfriend or husband, Max knows. She’s heard that tone maybe twice in her life.

Max sits, a little more cautiously than she did the first time.

“We’re going to talk about sex.” Max chokes on her own spit. “And why I found these in your room.”

Her mom upends the bag, spilling a handful of foil wrappers in the space between them. Max recoils as one lands on her thigh.

“I don’t know! Billy put them there!”

Max’s mom purses her lips and stares. Max squirms under her gaze and cracks. She’s not proud of how fast she does but it’s her mom. Of course Max cracks.

“He did, he gave me a handful and said I better be safe. I didn’t ask for them! I don’t even know how to put it on!”

“I rather thought that might be the case,” her mom says. Max’s face is probably going to be permanently red but she’s gratified to see her mom is also a little red.

Her voice is a whisper, loud in the too calm house. “We’ve only kissed, maybe three times. We don’t want to do that stuff.” She uses a single finger to nudge one condom closer to its brethren. “He’s nice to me.”

“That’s good,” Max’s mom says softly. Max’s eyes dart up to look and her mom is smiling, too.

“Do we need to go into details?” Max’s voice begs her mom to deny her.

“Yes.” and so begins the most excruciating fifteen minutes of her life so far. Her mom even has a banana, and makes Max practice. It’s horrific but also funny.

“So you understand now?” Her mom checks, another condom held between her fingers.

“Yep! I got it!” Max smiles and only gives a small eye roll, not the exaggerated one she might have earlier. “And don’t worry, I won’t be using this knowledge for at least two years. Probably longer.”

“Please don’t,” her mom puts her hand to her chest like she’s on the verge of a heart attack. “So the school is going to call an assembly sometime next week and go through all of this. I wanted you to be prepared though, it’s important for a girl to know these things.”

“That makes sense,” Max agrees. “It can be hard to notice details when you’re sitting in the back row and that’s where I like to sit so...” she trails off, realizing only after the fact that maybe it’s smarter not to tell your own mom you like to slack off in school.

“I had a feeling.” Her mom smiles. “So that’s what the school will be going over. Did you have any other questions, maybe one best suited for one-on-one time? I know no kid wants to ask these questions to the school nurse, I doubt that’s changed.”

Max’s mind draws a blank before she remembers some girls in the bathroom, squealing and yelling with one another.

“Does it hurt?” Max’s voice comes out small and she can’t look at her mom. “I’m not gonna go out and have sex right away, ew. But some girls at school, they-” Max shrugs, awkward and wishing she had kept her mouth shut.

“It shouldn’t,” her mom says slowly. “That’s why foreplay is important, and lube. Don’t ever listen to a man who thinks you don’t need it. It’s about being comfortable. The first few times will feel strange and you might mistake it for pain, but it’s just mostly odd. Then you get used to it and it can be something beautiful. Being that close to another person is really lovely.”

Max makes a face at the idea of being comfortable at all. “You’re really selling the act, mom.” Her honesty makes her mom laugh.

“But to answer your original question - it can hurt, yes. Some people like that sort of thing,” her mom continues. “But if someone wants to hurt you, Max, and they don’t listen to you?” 

Max looks up when her mom’s hand lands on her knee. Her pink nails shine in the light. It’s the most serious she’s seen her mom, even though she’s biting her lip and looks like she might cry.

“You run, Max. Don’t think the person will change, no matter the sweet words they whisper later, or gifts they give. Don’t give them a second chance.”

Max stares into her mom’s eyes and nods. She feels a chill wrap around her, the very real idea that her mom is speaking from experience. In that moment, Max resolves to be a better daughter, in between saving the world and finishing her homework on time. She obviously can’t do anything for her mom in the past, she didn’t know and doing something now will be hard because she’s a kid.

Instead of voicing her new decision, Max’s arms wrap around her mom easily, holding tight.

“Thanks, mom.” Max says, choked up and not sure why. “You’re the best mom.” She isn’t there for Max in the way she needs, just because she can’t be allowed to know about the Upside Down, but she tries. It’s enough for Max.

“I love you, sweetheart.” Her mom says, smoothing her hair back like Max is a toddler clinging to her knee. Max soaks it in.


	6. Freedom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy's 18th birthday isn't outright terrible, to his surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! Here I am on the very last day of November with an update. I have no idea when Billy's birthday is in canon, what car insurance cost in 1984, or how to transfer a title. It's fine, this is fiction. Susan is alluded to working at a bank, borrowed from "Runaway Max" so I didn't have to think of something else.
> 
> Please give me a shout in the comments if you liked this scene.

“It’s your birthday, son.” His father says and Billy nods his head. It’s the safest option in the face of the wide smile that almost reaches dark eyes. “The big one, eighteen.”

Billy doesn’t know where this is going, but he’s certain it’s nowhere good. He accepts the envelope, grateful his hand doesn’t shake. 

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” The older man practically orders when Billy goes to set it down next to Max’s shittily wrapped stack of cassettes using the Sunday comics and whatever god-awful sweater Susan got him this year, wrapped by the department store where she picked it out.

“Thought I’d wait for the ladies, they wanted to celebrate too.” Billy dares to speak. A large hand flashes out, swipes at his head half heartedly.

Billy knows it isn’t a reprieve. He is never that lucky, not even on his birthday.

“You’re right,” his dad agrees. “Would hate to make them ladies upset.” So the two of them sit at the table, not looking at each other.

The silence drags on. It’s the most peaceful thing Billy can remember in conjunction with his father in years.

Of course it’s broken by Max, her heavy footsteps and reedy voice singing. His father even mouths the words when Susan cuts him a look and Billy’s mouth almost drops open in shock. Turning eighteen must really be something special.

“Uh, thanks.” He says, when Max has stopped warbling the last note.

“I made the cake.” She says proudly in the next breath, grinning as she sits at Billy’s right.

“She had some help. I promise there’s no eggshells.” Susan adds dryly with a soft smile at Billy over the flickering candles.

“Cake first,” Max declares. “With ice cream so it won’t melt and then presents!”

Billy wonders if she’s high on something saying all that in one breath, if she’s playing up her youth for his dad. Not a half bad idea, so long as she can get away with it. He sneaks a look through his lashes over at his father as he slices up the cake like it’s a military maneuver.

His father is calm and to any outsider, looks like he’d rather be nowhere else.

Billy wonders what’s waiting for him in the envelope.

The four of them eat cake and ice cream like it’s a real party, Max practically bouncing in her seat until Billy’s boot connects with her shin. She settles down, mouth thinning as she glares at him. 

Billy matches her stare with narrowed eyes of his own, tearing off the comics.

The bands are all names he recognizes. He thinks he owns two of the cassettes already.

“Are they good?” Max checks. “I told the guy at the store what you usually listen to.”

“They’re great,” Billy tells her and she relaxes in her seat. He wonders how many arcade days she saved up to get these, if Susan helped her with the cost. It’s really more than he expected from her but their relationship has been better since the bat and the fight - better now that Max has some idea of what sort of hell she calls home.

Billy opens the department store box next, pleased it’s not a polo but some long sleeve shirts. He might actually wear these, even if it’s only around the house. It’s then that he notices they’re all dark colors. Billy doesn’t think about that or why Susan might have picked them out.

“Thanks, Susan.” He manages an approximation of a smile as rage burns in his veins. She nods her head, taking another small bite of cake so she doesn’t have to say a word.

He’s familiar with that trick too, uses it often enough himself that all he can do is send a sour smile across the table before wiping it away

Billy knows she’s scared of him, scared for him. He can’t even say he hasn’t earned it, slamming doors and raising his voice just to watch the woman flinch. She still tries, is the thing he doesn’t, will never understand.

He’s damaged goods, ruined by living in this house under his father’s thumb. But now, now he’s legal and can split for good as soon as he has money saved.

“Time for my present, I think you’re going to like it.” His father’s words break into his thoughts and Billy blinks at him. There’s a gleam in his eye or maybe in the set of his mouth that he’s eager, waiting for something to happen.

The envelope is opened quickly, sticky where he pulls it apart to get at the treasure inside. Billy stares at the papers he holds, words swimming in front of his eyes.

He has the title to the Camaro. It’s in his name. Sure, his father still needs to sign it over but the fact that he’s given it means he’s going to. This is huge, bodes well for Billy’s plan.

He flips through the other pages, expecting legalese.

It’s invoices, for insurance and tires and the mundane expenses Billy knows a car like his requires. The insurance, nearly a four figure number, is due at the beginning of next year.

“I decided you’re a man now, in the eyes of the law.” His father claps a heavy hand on Billy’s shoulder. “It’s about time you can start taking responsibility for your own things. Surely you don’t need me to keep holding your hand.”

“No,” Billy chokes out. He closes his eyes briefly and the number flashes behind his eyelids again. He wonders how bad the speeding tickets would be if he didn’t have insurance. “You’re right, I should take responsibility for my own actions.”

“That’s the spirit,” his father grins, victorious. Billy tries not to let his panic show and takes a deep breath, then another as he turns away from the man to set the papers in front of him.

“Happy birthday, Billy.” Max says, sweetly oblivious. His father echoes her and pushes away from the table. The celebration is over, Billy’s now a man with cake in his belly and the Camaro in his name.

He sits at the kitchen table as Susan cleans up around him, tracing over the amounts with his index finger.

She takes a cautious seat next to him, dish towel in her hands. “I thought you’d be pleased, Billy.”

He snarls, “That I have to figure out how to pay all these bills in a few months? An amount that’s more than I’ve ever seen?”

“Oh,” Susan frowns and shakes her head. She holds out a hand and Billy gives her the papers without a fight.

He watches her reorder them, setting them into three neat piles. “That man, he could have done this a little better. I’m sorry, Neil said he was going to speak to you before just handing it all over.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Billy mutters and pushes his hair out of his face. “So what are you doing?”

“Everything related to the title is here,” Susan motions to the stack of papers on the left. “You and your dad will need to sign them in front of a notary. Just come by the bank after school and we can get it taken care of.”

“Sure,” Billy shrugs. “Then there’s the stack of bills he hasn’t paid and put in my lap.”

“No,” Susan corrects. Billy turns a glare on her and she holds her own, even if she doesn’t meet his gaze. “I said to Neil that he should include these. It’s just so you have some idea of how expensive a car is, especially one like yours. You might think about cutting back on the cigarettes so you have a cushion for unexpected repairs.”

Billy rolls his eyes at her playful tone. “Yeah, I’ll think about it. So nothing needs to be done with that pile?”

“No, everything’s paid up. You should go through them, start saving for tires. I don’t know if you carry a spare but it's not a bad idea, especially since you won’t be used to driving in snow.” The dish towel gets crumpled in her hands as Susan continues chattering.

“And the insurance?” Billy tries not to choke again. He’s got a summer job at the pool lined up and will get paid a little more than minimum wage for being CPR-certified but that will only be months after the due date.

“There’s two ways you can pay for it.” Susan shows him the paper, manicured fingernail pointing out that Billy has options for paying on a monthly basis or all at once. It’s still a lot of money but it’s not going to give him a heart attack.

“Okay,” Billy does some quick calculations. If he skips lunch every other day and rations his smokes, he should be able to make the first two months. He can probably pick up some odd neighborhood jobs on the weekends, surely some old woman with too many cats needs her driveway shoveled once the snow starts sticking. That might be enough to make the payments until he becomes a lifeguard for the Hawkins community pool.

“There’s time, Billy.” Susan doesn’t put a hand on his arm but she clearly thinks about it. She withdraws, neatens the paperwork in front of them. “You can relax for today.”

“Right,” Billy drawls, back to sarcasm as she stands from the table.

“Your father has gone out for the evening,” Susan mentions offhandedly as she situates the dish towel over the oven’s handle to dry further after she’s wrung it out between nervous hands.

Billy grunts and picks up all the papers, the cassettes, the dark shirts that are now his. Susan goes back to the last of the dishes as he heads to his room.

Of course it comes crashing down just an hour or so later.

Billy puts his hand down wrong, too busy gesturing to Max as he explains something about her homework and smacks something off the shelf in the living room. All the words flee his brain when they both look down and realize just what picture has been smashed on the floor.

The only wedding photo of Susan’s parents.

The glass crunches when Max takes a faltering step forward.

“Stop,” Billy tells her wearily. “I’ll clean it up. Get to your room.”

Max’s hands pause as slim fingers carefully tease out the photo. It’s torn but she’s doing her best not to make it worse. “I’ll tell Mom I did it, I was sugar high and not paying attention.”

“Go to your room, Max.” Billy warns, more firmly this time. His dad isn’t home yet, might not be home until the early hours but there’s no way he won’t hear about it.

“It’s your birthday.” Max frowns.

Billy laughs, tries not to choke on the bitter taste as she backs away and sets the black and white photograph on the coffee table. “And here I thought it was actually going to be a good one. More fool me.”

“Are you okay?” Susan’s voice is soft but no less startling. Billy doesn’t wince as a glass shard cuts into his thumb.

“Fine,” Billy answers curtly. He picks up the largest shards, puts them carefully in his cupped hand. “Your picture might have gotten torn up, sorry.”

Susan comes forward on quick feet as he apologizes and means it, for once. She picks up the picture and Billy pretends not to see the sadness on her face when she notices the large tear through the groom’s face.

“You’re bleeding,” Susan says suddenly. The picture is back on the table and Billy is concentrating on getting all the glass out of the carpet. He’s got a stupid idea that if there’s no glass and no picture, his father won’t know the difference. It’s not as if he’s cared about decor before.

Billy shrugs. They both know he’s bled a lot more for harsher reasons.

“Leave it,” Susan says calmly. “It was an accident. I can get the smaller pieces with the vacuum tomorrow.”

Billy holds his breath, waits to be told his father will have to be informed. He doesn’t look at her, not even when he feels her eyes on him.

Susan says nothing of the sort, just carries the photo away as she leaves the room.

Billy stays kneeling on the floor on his eighteenth birthday, hand full of broken glass, while thoughts run around in his head. He finds his feet a long moment or two later, dumping the shards in the trash. He cleans what amounts to marginally more than a papercut with expedient movements and gets ready for bed.

It’s been a birthday of unexpected surprises but the day overall was kinda nice. He falls asleep between one breath and the next, free of bruises and dreaming about the future.


	7. School Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Max has the Party over to work on a project and realizes not everything was left behind in California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I've updated the tags to include canonical child abuse tag. You may also notice this is chapter 7/8 which means yes, these scenes are coming to an end. It does not mean I am going to stop writing my feral gremlin siblings, however! Hopefully I can continue to keep you entertained while we all wait for season four. Please let me know how you liked this Max POV.

Max opens the front door and kicks her shoes off. The rest of the Party follows suit, even before she can yell at them. She guesses they’re all well-trained by Mrs. Wheeler, the only other mother who makes them take their shoes off at the door if they’re not going immediately down the basement.

The Hargrove house on Cherry Lane doesn’t have a basement. Max just knows that her mother vacuumed the main room this past weekend. She doesn’t want to hear Neil yelling about mud tracked in.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been here before,” Dustin says, taking in the house from the front door. Max knows they’ve never been over, wonders how it looks from a stranger’s eyes.

She waves them on to the kitchen at the back of the house, pours the rest of the half-empty bag of Ruffles chips into the biggest bowl they have as Mike sets the encyclopedia on the table with a thump.

They find seats at the kitchen table, Lucas cracking his fingers before he picks up a pencil. They’ve been assigned a group project in social studies, thankfully together. Max can only imagine the arguments Dustin employed in past years to make sure the Party worked together. She pities anyone else who had to work with them. Each group has been assigned a state and has to present at the end of the week about the official items that the state has: the state bird, song, tree, flower, all sorts of things Max is surprised to find a state had to choose. She has vague memories of a school field trip to a field of orange poppies in elementary school; at least that finally makes sense.

“Are you glad we got California?” Lucas asks her, checking in as Max finally sits down now that everyone has a can of Coke in front of them. Everyone has to go home before six anyhow - not because of curfew, but because that’s when Neil comes home. Max doesn’t want any of them in the house when he walks in.

“It’s fine,” Max shrugs. She doesn’t care, honestly. Mike and Lucas were afraid they were going to get Indiana again when the teacher was assigning states; all she heard about sitting next to them in class was their third grade presentation until they got told to read up on her home state.

They take turns with the encyclopedia Mike checked out from the library, trying to decide who among them can draw a bear the best on the state flag since Will is at another doctor’s appointment. They say he’s getting better. Max points out they could wait and do the flag last, but is loudly overruled.

“Do you have anything from California?” Mike asks, staring intently at Max as she sets her can of soda down.

“I’m from California, idiot.” Max responds archly, but her mind is already busy thinking. She probably has a seashell or three in a box not quite unpacked, but that feels too grade school. Then she remembers for the umpteenth time that Indiana doesn’t have the ocean. It’s weird to think there are kids in her class who have never seen it at all.

“Seashells okay?” Max offers. “I probably have some in my room.”

“Yes!” Dustin shouts, excited. “Are any of them sand dollars? You know those are actually living creatures, right?”

“No, I don’t have any sand dollars. You have to get up way too early, with low tide. They smell terrible as they dry out too. My mom would never let me.”

“Okay,” Mike says, finger running down the list of official state symbols they’ll be talking about. “Seashells aren’t a symbol but that’s fine. I don’t suppose you have a piece of petrified redwood?”

Max doesn’t feel bad about laughing in his face. It’s cut off when the door opens and she looks at her watch. It’s too early for Neil and her mom to be home from work.

Billy’s voice utters a loud curse as he stumbles over the pile of shoes at the door.

“Oops,” Dustin sys quietly. Everyone is looking at Max for their cue.

She sighs as Billy comes into the kitchen.

“You’re home late,” she snarks. She hadn’t cared about his car still being in the high school lot at the end of the school day, had even left a note tucked under the windshield wiper. It had been nice to skate next to her friends’ bikes, taking their time to reach Cherry Lane while the sun was still shining.

“Had detention.” Billy tells her, voice curt. “What is this?” His face settles into something that might read mean to the Party, but Max knows he’s observing everything. He always is.

“School project,” Max explains hurriedly, trying not to seem like she’s rushed. “We have to present about a state and all its symbols.”

“We got California,” Dustin says.

Billy’s face is hidden as he opens and reaches into the refrigerator. Max doesn’t have to look at him to know he’s rolling his eyes.

“And you couldn’t work on this project at someone else’s house?” He raises an eyebrow and cracks open a can of beer, shutting the fridge door with a kick.

“My mom is fumigating the basement, otherwise we’d go there like usual.” Mike answers before Max can. “No room for all of us at Dustin’s house.”

“There’s one more of you at the table,” Billy raises an eyebrow and stares at Lucas.

“We’d go there only if we wanted the poster covered in glitter and stickers.” Lucas makes a face. “Little sister.”

“Can be the worst,” Billy agrees with a snort. Max is shocked at the camaraderie. A quick look at Dustin and Mike shows they feel the same. Lucas is playing it cool, but she can tell his eyes are a little wide at the turn of events. 

“Get them out of the house by five thirty, not a minute later.” Billy warns Max and leaves the kitchen without another word. 

The Party turns to Max as one, shocked.

“Was that a civil conversation with The Billy Hargrove?”

“He didn’t try to eat us!” Dustin shouts and claps a hand over his mouth. It doesn’t matter, as the sounds of Billy’s music have already begun echoing in the house and covering up Dustin’s words.

Max feels deserved in rolling her eyes now. “He’s not a cannibal. And he can be nice.” She shrugs, doesn’t feel like explaining how Billy was before the move compared to now. “So, are we done with this project for today? I’ve got a lot of math problems I didn’t finish in study hall.”

“I can help you, if you need.” Lucas says with a smile and Max grins back. The rest of the afternoon is fun, only homework and laughing with the sunshine warming Max’s skin as the soda fizzes inside her.

“It’s almost a quarter past,” Mike’s voice breaks the comfortable quiet that they settled into with their various homeworks needing attention. “We should get home.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. She knows it’s going to take them all a few minutes to sort out who’s papers belong to which person, cluttered as they are across the kitchen table. Then another couple of minutes to pull on jackets and shoes.

Her throat feels tight and she coughs. The sound is deeper than usual, louder. Max looks up from stacking the papers in front of her and Billy is leaning on the doorframe, blue eyes looking over everyone in the room.

He taps his watch with a finger. “Headed out, I hope.”

“Nearly, Billy.” Max tells him. She shoves Lucas’s papers at him, tells herself that her fingers don’t tremble when they brush his own warm hands when he takes the papers from her.

“I could roll it up and stick it in my bag,” Mike squints at the taped together papers that Dustin sketched out their presentation on.

“You’ll ruin the integrity! It’s in pencil, what if there’s transfer and we lose our layout because you smashed all the pages together?” Dustin screeches while Lucas shoots Max a look like he can’t believe these are his friends.

“I’ll keep the poster, bring it to school tomorrow,” Max says hurriedly.

“Five minutes,” Billy announces lazily before anyone else can say anything. Max swallows hard, waves off Lucas’s concerned face.

“There’s ten minutes until it’s half past,” Mike argues.

“And you’ve only got five minutes left in this house before I throw you out.” Billy crosses his arms across his chest. The Party gets the message and shoves the rest of their belongings into their bags, rushing to the door.

Billy steps out of their path, amusement in the curl of his smirk as he watches them. Max hides her own grin behind a hand, watching them trip over one another. She stands from the table and bumps into Billy gently as she passes by.

“Watch it, shitbird,” he grumbles.

“You were in my way,” Max pulls a face at him and sees her friends out. She stands on the porch until she can’t see Lucas’s bike any longer. Neil’s car turns the corner as she shuts the door.

Billy has already disappeared back into his room. The salad bowl they’d used for potato chips has been rinsed and sits on the dish drainer, Coke cans crushed and pitched into the trash.

Max breathes a sigh of relief that she doesn’t have to clean up as Neil walks in. She busies her hands with sorting through her math scratchwork and the sheet with her answers that she’ll turn in tomorrow at second period.

“Working hard?” Neil asks in a jovial tone, pressing an absent-minded kiss to the top of Max’s head. She doesn’t tense, she doesn’t shiver. Max takes a breath and carefully tucks away a page of math problems that looks more like Lucas’s algebra II class than her own geometry.

“Only some reading left for English, I can do that after dinner.”

“Good girl,” Neil tells her. Max flees the kitchen as he wanders into the master bedroom. Her mom will be home soon to start dinner. Max can listen to music or read a comic until then.

The doorbell rings once, then again as soon as the chime has finished playing. Max swears not so quietly and Billy’s music turns off. She hopes Lucas isn’t dumb enough to actually be at the door.

“I got it!” Max calls out to the Hargroves and practically runs to the door. She grabs a notebook off her desk on the way out of her room.

“What do you want?” She glares at Dustin. Her heart is beating double time in her chest. 

“I left my notebook.” Dustin is a terrible liar but Max doesn’t have time to tease him about it or the way his voice has gone pitchy. “I need it to finish my English assignment, and I have to turn it in on time or-”

“Here.” Max shoves her own red spiral bound notebook at his chest. Lucas’s worksheet is tucked inside. “Don’t come back.”

“Than-” she cuts off his thanks with the door.

“Who was at the door, Maxine?” Her stomach feels like it drops to the floor as Neil’s voice slithers in her ears.

“My friend Dustin left his notebook. We have a group project in social studies this week and Mom said it was okay to have them over this morning.” Max stands straight as Neil mulls over her words. His eyes stare into hers, keeping her in place.

“These would be the same boys I saw on their bikes tonight?”

“Probably,” Max says as she shakes her head. She corrects herself before he can say anything. “Yes sir.”

Billy comes out of the bathroom and pauses behind his father. Max doesn’t look at him for more than a split second, keeping her eyes trained just past Neil’s shoulder.

“They’re all friends of yours?” Neil asks, and there’s ice in his voice.

“Yes sir.” Billy leaves the room, skirting the edge of the wall to stay out of sight.

“You should probably find some new friends soon,” Neil tells her. “Some girls your own age. You’re getting older and it would be more appropriate. You know how people in small towns love to talk.”

Max’s jaw opens in incredulity. “They were the first people who were nice to me. We went trick or treating.”

“Oh, well if they gave you candy,” Neil sneers. Max doesn’t know where her mom is, why she isn’t home yet. She says nothing in the face of her step-father as he looms over her but she can’t help herself from taking a step back.

There’s a clink of a bottle cap hitting the counter and Neil’s attention is snatched away from Max like a snake sighting better prey.

Billy enters the room, longneck beer held between two fingers. He looks bored, blue eyes flitting from his dad to Max backed against the front door.

“Is that my beer?” He holds out his hand for Billy to give it to him.

Instead of handing it over, Billy raises the green bottle to his lips with a smirk.

Neil raises a hand and smacks the bottle from his son’s hand. The liquid spills and starts to puddle, darkening the carpet. Some of it splatters on Max’s bare leg and it’s cold. The smell doesn’t take long to reach her nostrils.

She doesn’t say a word, doesn’t move from her spot against the door. Billy doesn’t look at her, staring at his dad.

“You know very well that beer was a gift from a coworker.” Neil is very close to Billy. Max holds her breath.

Billy’s curl hangs over his forehead, not long enough to block Neil’s view. He shrugs lazily. “I ran out of Schlitz.”

Max knows that isn’t true, there were three cans left in there yesterday when she helped her mom put away groceries. Billy could have finished all of them in the time he’s been home but Max doesn’t think he did.

Billy’s head turns to the side and the sound of Neil’s slap hits Max’s ears a split second later.

She clenches her jaw, frozen at the door. She doesn’t want to draw Neil’s attention, not now.

Billy’s head comes back up to face his dad. 

There’s a buzzing in Max’s ears as Neil speaks to his son, drowning out his words. She wonders why she thought he had stopped hitting Billy, just because she hadn’t seen it happen in Indiana. She had only seen it once in California but it had been awful, Billy lying on the floor and snapping at her when she tried to help.

Billy stares at her when he rights himself a second time, standing tall in front of his father. Max thinks she sees tears in his eyes but knows that can't be right. Billy doesn't cry.

She stays against the door until Neil is finished, his hands letting go of Billy’s shirt and pushing him backward. He falls on the couch and then off of it, onto the floor. Neil doesn’t spare him, or Max, a glance as he goes to greet Max’s mom at the back door as her key scrapes in the lock.

Max feels like she flies across the room.

“Does that-” Her own voice is breathless. She doesn’t know what she wants to say, looking down at Billy on the ground. All the possible words leave between her brain and her mouth.

“I’m fine. Keep your mouth shut, next time.” Billy grunts. He gets a hand on the couch to push himself up and staggers into his bedroom. He shuts the door in Max’s face before she can push her way inside and apologize.

She knows the words would fall on deaf ears. She doesn’t want to knock on his door, run the risk of drawing attention to herself or Billy. Instead, Max goes into her own room and shuts the door. She’ll stay here until dinner is ready, a self-imposed punishment for as long as she can stand it. It’s the least Max feels she deserves.

She didn’t ask Billy to get involved. She doesn’t understand why he did. She hates him, at this moment. She hates that she sees him now for a person, no longer a monster or out of control like he has been since they arrived.

Max knew it happened. She just didn’t know that it kept happening, after that time in California. Her brain stutters and skips when she tries to think about it, all the little clues she’s overlooked or mistook for something with no deeper meaning.

Max knows better now.

Her mom calls the both of them for dinner. Max leaves her room and runs into Billy outside her door. She wonders if he was waiting to come in or if it was an accident. She thinks maybe that too many things in the house have been called accidents, covering up the truth.

Billy puts a hand on Max’s shoulder. It’s big and his fingers press into her shoulder blade to hold her still.

“You’re fine, right? My dad didn’t do anything?”

Max shakes her head, blinks away the wetness that wants to fill her eyes.

“You?” She whispers as her mom calls her name again.

“I’m always fine, Maxipad.” Billy chuckles but it’s a rough sound. “Go wash your hands for dinner, like your mother asked.” He gives her a push towards the bathroom, but it’s gentle.

“Don’t call me that!” She snaps at him and stomps off as he laughs again. Max washes her hands at the sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She doesn’t look any different from this morning but everything has changed.


	8. Begin Anew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy takes control of his and Max's future, damn the consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the end of these scenes and my ramblings on the Hargrove-Mayfield house found on Cherry Lane. I hope you enjoy this and feel it a fitting end. 
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts in the comments. I'll see you in 2021 with more words!

Billy hears the sounds, ears attuned even though it’s usually him at the receiving end. He creeps to the doorway and expects to see his dad raging at a redhead. It wouldn't be the first time he’s come across the sight, when his dad thinks he’s been rid of both the kids.

Billy spies the red hair, before his vision narrows to Max's dirty sneakers swinging in the air. He crosses the room before he even thinks about it.

"Put her down," Billy demands without caring about the consequences. He’s already connecting a fist with his dad’s head, knocking him sideways.

Max coughs and staggers to her feet. Billy slips in front of her, keeping his eyes on his dad as the man picks himself back up.

"What are you doing? She needs an attitude adjustment, you know it too."

Billy shakes his head. He’s tempted to cross his arms but doesn’t. Billy knows it’s a defensive maneuver and besides, he needs to keep his hands free. Just in case.

"She's a little girl, dad."

"She's a brat with a mouth that's gonna get her in some real trouble one of these days."

Billy doesn’t give him a chance to finish whatever crap he’s spewing. No reason for Max to listen to it more than she already has. He gets his hands in his dad’s shirt and uses it to swing him around. Then it’s Neil’s head bouncing off the drywall this time.

Max darts out of the way, keeping Billy in between her and his dad. Billy lets loose a laugh, more bitter than manic as she leaves the room. She’s always been a smart girl.

"I see why you like this, dad." He puts emphasis on the title. It’s definitely the adrenaline making his hands shake. "Must have been a rush, throwing me around when I was young. Seems you forgot something important though."

"Oh yeah?" His dad scoffs despite their positions. "I'll teach you plenty about respect."

"If you touch her again, I'll put you in the ground." Billy waves a hand toward the doorway, wrist held loose just to piss his dad off a little more.

"This is done. You're done. You're done beating on me, you don't put another hand on Max or her mom. Do you understand me?"

"I don't listen to upstarts like you," his dad spits. Billy lets go of his shoulder and sinks his fist into his dad’s abdomen. His dad curls over. Billy feels both sick and proud, all of it twisted up inside him as his vision narrows to the man in front of him.

"I said," Billy leans down to ask again. "Do you understand me?"

He’s somehow still surprised when his dad’s hand latches onto his curls and pulls him off his feet. Stupid, he should have known better. Really, Billy thinks as he falls to the floor, he should have been expecting it. Then they’re grappling on the living room floor, Billy on the defensive with his arms around his face. It’s too familiar by far and Billy wonders if tonight is the night he dies and it sticks.

Someone is shrieking, high pitched and frantic. Billy gets a lucky shot against his dad’s jaw as they both twitch at the noise. His dad collapses like a puppet on the rug.

"Are you okay?" Max asks, trembling with wide eyes on the other side of the room. The phone is still in her hand, cord stretched all the way out. "Is he dead?"

Billy leans over to check before he answers, placing two fingers on the neck of the man who raised him just like he learned in health class. He doesn’t know how to feel when he finds a pulse, beating strong.

"He's fine, just knocked out." Billy coughs. He turns his head as someone outside hammers on the door with a fist. He raises himself to a sitting position. "Did you-"

"Yes." Max tells him fiercely, unrepentant. She’s always been stronger than Billy. "I thought he was going to kill you. Or me."

She misses her mother floating like a ghost down the hallway to answer the door, now that the drama has been resolved. Billy pulls Max down to sit beside him on the couch, both of them staying out of the way as the house turns upside down with too many men in uniforms.

They both stare at the unconscious body in front of them. Max leans against him and Billy puts an arm over her shoulders to hold her close. His body aches as the noise level rises. Susan leans against the closed front door, face pale but resolute.

Billy knows what she’s going to say to the uniforms before the words leave her mouth. He swallows back the dry laugh, or maybe it’s a sob.

Max's nails cut into his skin when the cops come to take her statement but no one asks him to move. He disengages her teenage girl claws when the attention turns to him, jerking his head towards the police chief who’s supervising the entire domestic scene in the household. Max doesn’t need to hear everything Billy’s going to say because she’s already seen too much.

“I’ll talk to him,” Billy demands, hands fisted against his thighs. The man looks like he’s seen some shit, is probably old enough that he’d served like Billy’s dad in the war. He doesn’t trust either of the policemen walking around his house, the same ones who trip over air and try to chase his car down back lane country roads.

He sits with the police chief at the far side of the dining table, far enough away they can’t be overheard but Billy can still see Max in his line of sight. Susan has disappeared again, floating away untethered to the master bedroom.

“Can you wait to put the cuffs on until after Max is gone? She doesn’t need to see that.” Billy asks, even while he watches through narrowed eyes as the police put bracelets on his dad and haul him off the carpet.

"Looks like a case of self-defense to me," the chief said with a grimace. He keeps his hands on the table in front of him, not making a move for a weapon or even a notepad.

"Wasn't protecting me," Billy tells him in a dull voice. "He had her-" He rubs his hands over his arms and realized for the first time that night that his voice is hoarse, that his knuckles are bloody. "Max's feet didn't touch the floor. I came home and she was just dangling."

"I know, Billy." The chief looks like he wanted to put his hand on Billy's shoulder and aborts the move to run the hand through his own hair instead. Billy snorts despite the situation.

"Her mom didn't help?"

"She stays away," Billy says honestly with a shrug. "I mean, just look at her. Susan’s like a bird with those fine bones. My dad is mean, she’d probably break. No one wants to see that."

"And you're used to it," the older man finishes heavily. He sighs. "It's a mess, to be sure. You eighteen yet?"

"I will be in two weeks," Billy answers. He has his bag packed, had planned to hit up the grocery store two towns over for non-perishables and water for his road trip back to California.

"Okay," the chief says and his tone means Billy probably needs to learn his name. This isn’t really the time and place to crack a joke, but he thinks it begins with H. "You seem like a good kid, under the circumstances."

"He's an asshole but he's my brother." Max comes to stand at Billy's side, sneaky like only a gremlin can be. Or maybe it’s just that Billy has trouble concentrating right now, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears like a headache from hell while he waits for the other shoe to drop. "If you're gonna talk about me, at least do it while you're not trying to stare a hole in my head from across the room."

The police chief rubs at his mouth and gives her a wry grin. There’s enough unsaid in that expression that Billy wonders if they know each other before tonight. He doesn’t see how that’s possible since Max has never been hauled into the station.

"Your brother can't take you, not until he's legally 18 and can apply for custody through the proper channels. I can't let either of you stay here, even though Neil's arrested."

Max pokes a hole in that argument right away. "What about my mom?"

"She's gonna need some help too, Max. This isn't something you get over in one night. You’ll be able to see her, if that’s what you’re worried about."

"I wasn’t worried. She needs a lot of help, I bet." Max mutters like the brat she is and Billy gives her a sideways glare. It’s one thing to invite the cops in because Billy might be six feet under otherwise but giving voice to Max’s simmering rage at her hapless mother is a line too far. The police chief coughs as Max shuts her mouth with a mulish set to her jaw and Billy thanks the god he no longer believes in that it sounds amused. 

Billy really doesn’t want to know now about whatever secret they obviously share. In fact, he figures he’d be better off not knowing. He swallows down questions about tranquilizers and the nightmares that make Max wake up shaking.

"Be nice," Billy hisses at her and Max just rolls her eyes. He turns back to the man and his eyes that see too much. "So you got some sort of family lined up for these two weeks?"

"You have a job that can provide for the both of you?" The chief dodges the question.

"Lifeguarding in the summer."

He hasn't technically applied yet, but he would do that tomorrow if it meant he gets to keep Max. Foster care would either harden her into a chitinous shell or break her. Billy would hate to see that, she deserves a better chance than he got, to grow up without all the anger he holds inside. Guess that one-man road trip back to California’s sun and surf is gonna be put on hold a little longer. He holds in a sigh as he makes his decision; guess he has to grow up sometime.

He knows the police won’t hand her back to her mother, just from what hasn't been said in this short conversation. “I’ve heard there might be some pickup work at the auto shop but I hadn’t looked into that yet.”

“I’d get on that,” the chief advises as one of his men comes over with an open notebook, tilted away from Billy and Max’s line of sight.

“There’s a handful of families licensed for emergency placement, Hargrove. Two weeks and you’re out of the system. Surely you can keep your head down for that long.”

Billy sneers, even though it hurts his mouth to twist that way. He’s used to ignoring those small pains though and keeps his eyes on the policeman across the table. Max shifts closer to him despite the expression, like she knows they’re going to be sent to different places.

“You think I’m gonna go quietly to some family I’ve never met before, let them judge me? It’s a small town, they’re all gonna know what happened by the end of this weekend and make up their own minds. It doesn’t matter how nice I pretend to be.”

The chief huffs. Billy knows he should be setting a better example for Max, who has to be scared about being separated. He knows how the system works, this isn’t his first time being taken away from his dad for a long weekend. The most time he’d spent out of his dad’s tender, loving care was six weeks. Long enough for Neil to complete an anger management course and for Billy’s bruises to heal. He told everyone he fell out of a tree when they asked and scowled at the pity in their expression.

“Small towns, where everybody knows everybody’s business.” The chief states the obvious with a roll of his eyes. “Still, I’m sorry this had to happen. I can take you both for the night at least, it’s late. We can figure out something else in the morning once we’ve all had some sleep.”

Billy knows a dismissal when he hears one. He takes Max into her room to pack a bag while the chief disappears to explain the facts to Susan. He doesn’t think Max needs to be in the room while her mother hears that she’s been an accessory for years and will be damn lucky to get custody of her own daughter by this time next year.

“Take more underwear than you think you’ll need,” Billy advises quietly once Max’s bedroom door is mostly closed. He’s already pulling his wallet from his back pocket, laying out two fives and a ten dollar bill. He rolls them up and puts the two smaller denominations in a pair of rainbow striped socks. The larger bill gets folded and tucked into a fabric pouch of girl supplies without even a grimace of disgust.

“Emergency money. I know you’re staying with the chief tonight-”

“He’s good, Billy. We can trust him!” Max’s voice is earnest, bright eyes big in her too-pale face. “I can talk to him, maybe you could stay there until you’re 18-”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Billy cuts her off gruffly as he holds up his hand to stop her rushed words, dropping down onto her bed. It doesn’t squeak, unlike his own aged mattress. “I’ve done this a time or two, getting shuffled off. You remember you’re a guest, Max. Be polite, don’t give them a reason to send you out of town.”

Max looks frightened by his words, more so than she had looked being held against the wall or holding the phone and realizing there’s finally an end to his dad’s reign.

“Damn it,” Billy swears and rubs a hand over his face. The little jolt of pain makes him hiss. It still hurts to talk but she’s going in blind and that stings. All the things Billy wishes he had known before the first time he got sent away run through his mind like rain drops on a windowpane, too fast to stop and catch. “Look, I don’t want to scare you but you need to know these things.”

“I can take care of myself.” Max replies, crossing her arms with a glare.

“You really can’t.”

He doesn’t reach out to touch the bruises on her throat but lets his eyes trace over them from left to right. “You want to come help me pack or you want to stay in your room?”

Max shrugs which wasn’t a real answer but she follows him out of the room when he gets up from her bed. She doesn’t look at her mom on the couch who has the chief next to her, coffee mug cradled in his large hands.

Billy doesn’t have much to take with him. If anything it’s that he has to remove stuff from his bag so he won’t look like he’s planning to run. Funny how his mind can reorder his long-term plans so quickly. The chief darkens the doorway as Billy finally zips the bag up while Max pokes through his cassette collection and makes suggestions.

“Time to head out, if you’ve got what you need for the night.”

“We’re all packed,” Billy answers for the both of them. The future stretches in front of both now, unknown and too large. They’re as ready as they can be, even if they’re not prepared at all.

The three of them get into the chief’s Blazer, Max opting for the middle seat next to Billy over the passenger seat the man offers.

“You could uh,” he looks awkward as he pulls out of the driveway. “If you want, the lights are this button, just flick it up.” He points and Max nods, silent with wide eyes.

Billy doesn’t put an arm around her skinny shoulders, there’s no need when she’s pressed right against him.

The chief meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Call me Jim, Hargrove.”

“Billy,” he grits out. It’s like swallowing glass.

“You need to be seen by a doctor, either of you? We can swing by.”

“We’re fine,” Billy answers, clipped. They’re not, but they will be.

“Sure,” Jim says with light suspicion, but he doesn’t press any further. They drive out of town, Max peering with interest when they come to a stop in the woods.

“Watch the trip wire,” Jim instructs gruffly and points out where it is. He watches carefully as first Max and then Billy exaggeratedly step over it, a smile lurking in the twist of his mouth. Billy’s too exhausted to call him out on the obvious amusement.

The cabin is small but warm, cluttered with mismatched furniture and a school workbook on the kitchen table barely big enough for two people.

Max’s eyes narrow in on a mostly closed door. “Is-” Her voice is now a croak, worse than Billy’s.

“No, not here tonight,” Jim says kindly. “Figured it would be enough to get you two settled in. Might see about tomorrow.”

Max nods. Billy is left confused with their half-sentences but too tired to demand answers. His eyes feel gritty and swollen even though he hasn’t cried at all.

Jim continues, “You can take the bed for the night, Billy’s got the couch.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Don’t think you want my camp bed, but you’re welcome to it.”

Billy shakes his head and drops his backpack on a sun-faded cushion. He watches Max push open the door cautiously and sees a girl’s room.

He wonders again how Max knows the chief of police, if it’s got anything to do with that night he found her in that run down house with too many boys. He wonders if Max has stayed the night here before. He doesn’t want to name the emotion rising in his gut at the idea she had someone to turn to or that she needed it in the first place.

Max is getting settled in the room, picking up and setting down the small myriad items on the dresser in some order only known to her.

Billy needs a cigarette and digs his battered pack out of the front pocket of his backpack. “You mind?”

“There’s an ashtray on the porch,” Jim tilts his head and Billy heads out the door.

He isn’t surprised when the older man joins him a few minutes later, his own smoke stuck between his lips.

Billy inhales and exhales, waits for the questions as his lungs burn. The nicotine does its job, settles the buzzing under his skin to something a little more manageable. 

“Your sister’s a good kid,” Jim finally speaks when their cigarettes are half gone. “Whip smart, bossy.”

Billy hums, doesn’t bother correcting him that Max is his step-sister. It doesn’t matter, now. They’re family and that’s what counts. He doesn’t want to abandon her, the idea of driving out with Hawkins in the rearview makes something in his chest twist harshly.

“You been keeping an eye on her then?” Billy asks, coughs. It sets his ribs to aching again and he lifts a hand to press on the hurt before dropping it. He knows Jim sees the action but thankfully doesn’t comment.

“I got a kid too, a little girl about Max’s age.” Jim tells him with little hesitation. Well, at least the girl’s bedroom makes sense to Billy now. “Max has met her a couple of times. She found me, really, about this time last year. Her home was a bit like yours, from what I understand.”

Billy really doesn’t want to hear it and rolls his eyes instead of saying something that might lead to trouble. Jim chuckles, dropping the rest of his cigarette in the ashtray that sits on the railing between them.

“Nah, that’s all I was gonna say for now. You should probably get some sleep; you’ve had a hell of a day.”

Billy wants to snap but it’s only reflex. He knows he won’t sleep tonight, will probably end up sitting at the end of Max’s new bed to thwart the nightmare she’s almost certainly going to have.

“G’night, then. If you get up first, make enough coffee for me too.” Jim smiles briefly at him then turns to head inside. Billy smokes another cigarette and stares into the dark forest around the cabin, idly wondering where his life will take him.

He might live to see twenty-five, which is a novel idea. Billy has the world at his feet now and all the time in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking fictional artistic license with the foster care system, Jim being an emergency placement and Neil's future punishment, even the fact he was arrested but all Billy did was give a statement. Billy and I are both studiously avoiding the fact that it's the mid-1980s and Neil would get a slap on the wrist or only a few years at most. Suspend your disbelief, it's Christmas and a time for feel-good stories.


End file.
